


Stages of Day

by Sue Corkill (mscorkill)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-04
Packaged: 2017-11-06 21:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/423381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/Sue%20Corkill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their last day at the cabin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stages of Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Stages of Love: Stages of Day; originally posted June 2007.

**DAWN**

Jack stood on the dock in his bare feet; jeans slung low on his hips and a cup of hot coffee steaming in his hands. Dawn was always his favorite time of day at the lake, the sun just peeking through the pines, the shadows fading away as the lake and its inhabitants woke up. The dew was heavy in the grass and a slight mist hung over the lake, waiting to melt away in the bright summer sun. The birds sang madly, greeting the new day, and he could hear the occasional plop and splash as one of the supposedly non-existent fish found its breakfast. 

He heard the back door to the cabin slam; he smiled, but didn’t turn around. Instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the clean scents of the lake and trees mingling with the coffee and reminding him what it was like to live on the surface instead of buried beneath tons of concrete and breathing recycled air. Jack took a sip of his coffee, savoring the smooth taste, when he heard footsteps behind him.

“Good morning.” A warm body pressed up against his back, sweatshirt clad arms wrapping around him. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked, her cheek nuzzling against his bare shoulder blade.

“Not anymore,” he rumbled. He felt her smile against his skin and then the warm press of her lips. Her arms slid from around him in a slow caress, her left hand trailing delicately across his ribs, resting comfortably at his waist as she moved to stand at his side.

“Beautiful morning.” 

Jack glanced at her; the sun had just broken over the trees, sunlight spilling over them, casting her features in an almost ethereal glow; the sun glinting off the golden highlights in her hair. “Beautiful,” he agreed.

Sam looked at him, her lips curved in a tender smile and eyes as blue as the calm morning water of the lake. And then she sighed, her eyes changing from clear blue to the darker hues of the lake during a storm. “I wish we didn’t have to go.”

Shifting his coffee cup to his left hand, Jack wrapped his right arm around her, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “We’ll be back.”

She sighed again, a wealth of emotion conveyed in that one simple acted and leaned further into his embrace; her body warm and soft and molding perfectly against him. “I know,” she murmured. “But when we leave, you go to DC and I go to Area 51….”

Jack recognized the melancholy in her voice, it matched the ache in his gut when he thought about the drive to Minneapolis/Saint Paul and watching her board a plane that would take her over two thousand miles from him. “Have you changed your mind?”   
He felt her head move against his shoulder. “No,” she said, her voice sad but firm. “It’s what we have to do.” She was right, no matter how many times they did the math—and they had done it plenty during the month they’d been at the cabin—it always came out the same way.

“It won’t be forever,” he reminded her, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “And besides we still have today.” He felt the heavy breath that rippled through her and his arm tightened around her, but then before he could react, she slipped out of his embrace and with a sassy smile, grabbed his coffee mug. 

“Hey!” he protested. 

Sam grinned at him, apparently totally unrepentant, and took a sip of his coffee. “You’re right, we do have today.” She finished off the coffee in the mug and handed it back to him. “And if I remember correctly,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving him standing on the dock, her voice carrying back to him, “it’s your turn to make breakfast and you promised me pancakes.”

 

**NOON**

Jack gets their suitcases out of the storage shed after breakfast and they both spend the rest of the morning trying to ignore their presence. One thing he finds he can’t ignore is her fussing around the kitchen, sorting and cleaning. When she puts on her bright yellow rubber gloves, fills a dishpan with soapy water and opens the refrigerator, he finally places a gentle hand on her arm.

“Mrs. Kendall,” he says, referring to the wife of the caretaker he’s had for years to watch over the cabin, “will do that. In fact,” he reminds her, “she’ll actually clean the entire house.”

“I know,” Sam replies. “I just don’t want her to think—”

He silences her with a kiss. “She won’t think anything, Sam,” he murmurs against her soft lips. His action has the intended effect; the refrigerator door swings shut, the dishpan full of rapidly cooling water forgotten as they continue to kiss. What starts out as an almost playful kiss soon transforms into one with serious intent. She’s leaning into him now; he hears the yellow rubber gloves drop to the floor, and her cool hands frame his face, the kiss turning ravenous.

Jack shudders when her nails rake ever so lightly across his nape, the surge of fierce arousal motivating him into further action. It takes very little maneuvering and in moments he has her backed up against the kitchen counter. She’s always had an exceptional talent for anticipating his actions and this time is no exception, when she pulls free just enough to tug her sweatshirt off over her head. He’s too impatient to bother with unfastening her bra, so he merely shoves the cups up, freeing her breasts. 

She whimpers softly when his mouth fastens on her breasts, kissing and licking his way to one taut peek. Her nails rake through his hair again and suddenly the kisses and caresses aren’t enough. Dragging his mouth away from her breast, his hands are slightly rough when he grabs her at the waist and boosts her up onto the counter. Their eyes meet, hers bright and full of approval, and he smiles tightly, his nimble fingers already busy with the fastening of her jeans. When he tugs at the waistband, she braces her hands on the counter and lifts her butt. With one swift movement, her jeans and panties join her sweatshirt on the floor.

Jack reaches for the button on his trousers, but her hands are already there and he groans when she releases him from the confines of his clothing. There’s a time and place for everything and as their mutual passion races rapidly towards flashpoint, he realizes this is going to be one of those fast and furious times. With his trousers drooping down his hips, Jack grips her hips, pulls her butt to the edge of the counter and finds his way deep into her loving warmth. 

Sam moans his name and her long legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even deeper. With her hands gripping the counter edge and his braced beside her, he pounds into her. Jack tries to keep the thin edge of desperation out of his movements, but it seeps in anyway as the voice in his brain that won’t go away chants ‘last day, last day'; keeping time with his thrusts. And as much as he longs to make it last forever, he realizes dimly that it’s already too late, his orgasm spiraling out of control, but then Sam’s hand is there, between them, and even as he shudders helplessly against her, he hears her soft, panting cries of release.

In the sweet aftermath, he can barely stand and he leans heavily against her, breathing hard. The strain in his back and the slight twinge in his bad knee are unwelcome reminders that perhaps he’s getting too old for sex anywhere other than a comfortable bed, but then she murmurs contentedly, nuzzling her cheek against and he figures he’s still got a few fancy moves left in him. Jack’s content to remain as they are for a bit longer, that is until his stomach growls in a most loud and rudely insistent manner.

Sam chuckles and kisses his cheek, finally raising her head and letting her legs slowly slide down from around him. “Hungry?” she asks, her blue eyes glowing with love, satisfaction and no small amount of humor.

“Well,” he says, reluctantly slipping out of her arms. With his trousers still around his knees, he catches Sam’s waist and lifts her off the counter, letting their still flushed bodies slide against each other in a deliberate caress. “It is almost noon.” 

 

**AFTERNOON**

Jack picks a fight with her after lunch. 

It starts to rain while he’s in the shed, cleaning and stowing his fishing gear. He carefully sorts lures; cleans and dismantles rods and reels; storing and protecting them until next time. Next time…he’s not sure when they’ll get to the cabin again and while normally he doesn’t get all broody when it’s time to leave, this time is different. And he feels something very akin to regret start to filter into his consciousness. 

It starts to rain before he finishes, the bright day turning dark and dreary—coinciding quite nicely with his developing mood, when eventually all his tackle and gear is neatly put away and he locks up, jogging through the rain to the back door of the cabin.

“Sam?”

She’s not in the kitchen, the lunch dishes all washed and put away. He checks the living room next; her suitcase stands by the door. He frowns, feeling his mood take another dip at the silent reminder that their hours together are inexorably counting down.

“Sam?” he calls a little louder. 

“In here.” Her voice floats up from the back of the house and he follows it to the bedroom.

He stops in the door and stares at the sight before him, and when he speaks, the words come out harsher than he intends. “I thought I told you Mrs. Kendall would take care of this.” 

She pauses in stripping the bottom sheet off the bed and gives him a curious look before continuing on as if he hadn’t even spoken. The dark mood inside him lurches to the surface and he’s across the room in two steps, snatching the sheet out of her hands and tossing it back onto the bed. “I told you that you didn’t have to do this.” His voice turns deadly and he’s not sure why he’s so mad at her.

“I’m just taking the sheets off the bed, Jack.” Her tone is mild but he can see the faintest hint of reproach in her eyes when she adds, “Not putting Mrs. Kendall out of work.” 

In what seems to Jack to be an act of open defiance, she picks the pile of sheets back off the bed and dumps them into the clothes basket at her feet. His jaw is clenched so tight it’s aching and his hands are tightened into fists and part of him realizes it’s certainly not rational to get mad at her over dirty sheets—

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Her annoyingly mild voice interrupts his confusion and she hands him an armful of heavy material that he realizes is the bedspread. When she steps away, still holding onto part of it, he realizes her intent and automatically follows her lead as she unfolds the covering and places it on the bed. “We are spending the night in Minneapolis,” she reminds him.

It made sense, a week ago, when they’d decided to drive down the night before their early morning flights. But now it just seems like one more way that the outside world is eating away at their time together. In a sobering—and rather uncharacteristic—flash of insight, his irritation with her becomes crystal clear. All the cleaning and tidying and packing leaves him feeling like they’re carefully packing away their time together and the part of him that still finds it hard to accept that this is all real can’t help but wonder if she’ll pack him away just as carefully when they’re twenty-five hundred miles apart. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” he blurts out.

She stops still and looks at him, the edge of the bedspread still in her hands. He’s rather shocked as well, he’s not sure what he meant to say but he doesn’t think it was that.

“You’re not losing me,” she replies, still calm. She hands him a pillow and he automatically puts it on the bed, folding the spread carefully over it. Her hand brushes against his as they smooth out the material. “I’m just going to Area 51.”

“Like I’ll just be at the Pentagon?” He doesn’t think he means it to sound like an accusation, but it does, and it hangs in the air between them.

Sam picks up the laundry basket and walks to the door; her voice is angry when she stops and finally answers him. “I’m not having this discussion with you again, Jack. I shouldn’t have to remind you that we both knew exactly what we were getting into when we agreed to these assignments—and your promotion.” 

And with that, she leaves the room. Jack figures he’s lucky that her arms are full, otherwise he’s sure the door would have slammed soundly in his face. It doesn’t help his mood that she’s right, they both knew what their new assignments meant to their careers—and to each other. And even while his momentary flash of anger fades, he’s still left with the sinking feeling that their life together is being carefully sorted, folded and packed away.

 

**EVENING/DUSK**

Jack loads their suitcases in the truck after a dinner of cold sandwiches and potato chips eaten while standing by himself in the kitchen. They’ve been studiously not avoiding each other all afternoon and she wanders in about the time he’s finished and silently makes a sandwich, taking it with her into the living room and eating it while watching the early evening news. He resents the intrusion of the real world into what’s left of their time at the cabin even if they haven’t spoken since their earlier disagreement.

When he returns to the cabin, she’s still engrossed in the nightly news and he leaves her to the television and snags the last beer from the fridge, slipping out through the backdoor. He slips off his shoes and walks barefoot the few feet through the grass to the dock and stands on the wooden boards, the quiet hush of the water lapping against the wood piers and the bank mingle with the sounds of the water fowl seeking their evening roost; the crickets and cicadas adding their accompaniment to the lake at dusk.

If dawn is his favorite time at the lake, then dusk would have to be a close second. Twilight settles like a blanket over the lake and Jack takes a long swallow of his beer. He’ll miss this in DC…he’ll miss her in DC. Phone calls, emails and long weekends that seemed reasonable during the light of day seem woefully inadequate now in the face of their impending departure. 

Jack knows they’ll make it work—they have too much invested in each other now to let something like a few thousand miles come between them. No, he smiles grimly at a passing loon that swoops down into the water, they’ll only let dirty sheets come between them. 

He’s not sure how long he stands there, staring out at the water before she joins him. Long enough to finish his beer before he hears the backdoor open and then close and he feels her arms creep around his waist while she presses her cheek against his shoulder. 

“It’s almost time to leave.” 

He voice is muffled against his shirt and he sighs heavily. Her arms tighten around him and he lets the empty beer bottle drop gently down onto the dock and he folds his hands over hers. She’s offering him an olive branch and he has enough sense to take it. “I know.”

“I’m going to miss this.”

“Me or the lake?” he dares to gently tease.

She chuckles softly and when he feels her start to move, he releases her arms and she slips around in front of him, looping her arms around his neck. In the remaining light he sees the affectionate sparkle in her eyes that he’s missed since their earlier argument. “You.”

“One day,” he says, more serious than he’s ever been, “when we leave here we won’t be going in different directions.”

“I know,” she reassures him. “But we don’t have to think about that until tomorrow?” 

He hears the question in her voice and cupping her cheeks between his hands, presses a kiss to her forehead. “All right, Scarlett, we’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

 

**NIGHT**

The Hilton is like every other airport hotel he’s ever been in, the roar of jets taking off is faint—but always a constant reminder—that everything in life is transient. Their modern room is an equally sharp contrast to the rustic charm and comfort of the cabin. The air conditioning keeps the room nice and cool but he misses the fresh breeze that blows through the trees and the sounds of the lake at night. The king size bed is too big after a month spent wrapped around each other in the double bed at the cabin and Jack rolls over, scooting closer to Sam. Pulling her into the cradle of his body, he nuzzles her neck.

“Can’t sleep?” Her voice is drowsy.

“Bed’s too big,” he mutters. Sam chuckles softly and he smiles momentarily, before he remembers how big and empty his bed will be in DC. He wonders—for not the first time—what she’ll say if he asks her to come with him. In all their talks and discussion regarding their future, he’s never asked; and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s afraid she’ll say yes instead of no.

“I don’t have to go.” 

The hand that has been lightly stroking her arm stops. He shouldn’t be so surprised at her comment, she always was good at reading his mind. She turns in his arms and the faint light seeping into the room isn’t enough for him to see her face, so he stretches, reaching over and turning on the bedside lamp.

“I’d never ask you to give up your career.”

Her smile is understanding, but he sees the sadness in her eyes and knows he’s the one that put it there. “I know,” she says, caressing his cheek. “That’s always been part of the problem, hasn’t it?”

He’s not sure what to say. He loves her and can think of nothing he wants more than to spend the rest of his days with her…and yet the threat of what hangs over the Earth is not something either of them can ignore. “Sam—”

“It’s okay,” she says, pressing two fingers to his lips. “Someday….”

She deserves better than some day, but he’s not that noble and he can face the long nights without her as long as he knows that in the end, she’ll always be his. More words won’t change what has already been decided, so Jack reassures her in the only way left to him. 

Her lips are soft and willing beneath his and when her arms wrap around him, working their way under the old white T-shirt he wore to bed, an unexpected feeling of relief fills him. Suddenly everything is all right again, even the prospect of their impending separation fades when she’s in his arms. He’s content for the moment to just kiss her, slow and deep, savoring the taste and texture of her.

The easy contentment doesn’t last long though. Her nails rake delicately down his spine and he shudders, instinctively arching into her and she moans into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders. Jack stops kissing her only long enough to strip off his T-shirt and boxers, her sleep T tossed to the foot of the bed along with his discarded clothing. She pulls him back into her arms he groans in pure pleasure when she cradles him in her warm embrace.

Jack has spent the last month learning everything about what pleases this woman, how to touch her and bring her to shivering release in his arms, and he puts all his skill and talent to work now. He refuses to think of this as a last time, but he still finds himself paying special attention to each nuance of her response, memorizing again the way her eyes turn all cloudy blue with love and desire when she looks at him; how her lips glisten moistly after their kisses; each soft sigh and murmured word of love and approval.

But what he burns into his memory against the long nights alone is the look on her face when he slowly slides into her. This is what he’ll miss the most…not the physical part, though he can’t deny that it’s great, but the emotional part—the connection between them that has survived so much for so long is at its strongest in these few moments when they’re both at their most vulnerable—and powerful. He watches while she unravels in his arms and then follows, losing himself in her love.

He groans softly when he feels the slight tug on his hair and he reluctantly moves off her, immediately pulling her back into his arms. They settle easily into a comfortable embrace, her head on his chest, one arm and leg thrown over him and he waits patiently until she finishes squirming against him before he turns off the light and pulls the covers back up over them. 

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her hand moving idly along his ribs in a light caress.

“For what?” He’s not sure what she’s thanking him for and he’s misread her one time too often today, so he wants to be sure. 

Jack feels her smile against his chest and then the quick press of her lips over his heart. “For making this time for us.”

He strokes her hair, smoothing a few stray locks behind her ear. The night will be over far too soon, but there is one thing he needs her to understand before the sun rises and they board their separate flights. “There’ll be more. I promise.”

Sam nuzzles her cheek against his chest. “And you’re a man who always keeps your promises.” 

It wasn’t a question, but he answers it anyway. “Always.”

**THE END**


End file.
